Frisky Business

by Tawna Fenske

  “There go my plans to earn an extra twenty bucks,” he said as he opened his car door and swung himself out. Magoo hopped over the seat and jumped out behind him, padding over to a water dish at the edge of the garage. Marley followed and punched a few numbers on a keypad beside the door. The garage powered open, revealing an interior so spotless you could lick the concrete floor. Not that Will wanted to, but the option was there.

  He turned and nodded toward the bike attached to the rack on the back of his Volkswagen.

  “You want the bike in the garage, or on your back porch?” he called.

  Marley looked up, and Will felt something clench in his chest as her eyes locked with his. Hers skittered away first, studying the interior of the garage.

  “Let’s put it in the garage. I’ll feel better if I know it’s locked up.”

  “From thieves or from Magoo?”

  “Both.”

  Will pulled the bike off the rack as Marley uncoiled a garden hose off a neat wooden rack beside the house. She dragged the hose over before bending down to tip the slobber-saturated water out of Magoo’s dish. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but Will still caught himself staring. There was so much to see. Wisps of hair drifting free from her ponytail to frame her face. A shadowy glimpse of curved flesh beneath the neckline of her T-shirt. Her taut backside in those snug cotton shorts.

  Stop it, Will commanded himself. You are not a Neanderthal.

  Yes, he was. The trick was not to act like it.

  Magoo pranced around while Marley splashed fresh water into the dish and Will wheeled the bike into the garage. He propped it against the wall and then trudged back to his car and grabbed the box containing Marley’s new bike rack. He hefted it out and carried it back toward the garage.

  He found Marley standing over Magoo’s dish, the hose still splashing water over her bare toes as she studied the Pure Romance catalog she’d gotten from Bethany.

  “Need help hooking this to your car?” he asked.

  Marley looked up, blinking in surprise as she closed the catalog. “Oh—I almost forgot about that.”

  “It shouldn’t take too long to attach it. Got any tools?”

  Marley gave him a sheepish grin and waved the catalog. “Funny you should ask. I was just studying the Jelly Tool Belt.”

  “Does it have an Allen wrench?”

  “That may be the only thing it doesn’t have.” Marley rolled the catalog up and tucked it under one arm, effectively ending Will’s efforts to peer at the pages.

  He set down the bike box and nodded back at the Volkswagen. “I’ve got tools in my car. The real kind, not the ones you’d be embarrassed to have spotted in your luggage by airport security. This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

  “I can’t ask you install my bike rack, Will. It’s too much trouble.”

  “You aren’t asking me,” Will called as he dug his toolbox out of the trunk. “I’m offering. Totally different thing.”

  “At least let me make you dinner. I could throw something really simple together. Shrimp scampi, maybe, and a salad. I grabbed some fresh bread from Baked, so I can heat that up with garlic butter.”

  Will grabbed his toolbox and returned to the garage, his stomach already growling. “That sounds amazing.”

  “How long do you think the bike thing will take?”

  Will shrugged. “Twenty minutes, thirty tops.”

  She smiled, and Will felt his heart twist. “Perfect,” she said. “I’ll have dinner ready by then. Thanks again, Will.”

  He stared after her as she retreated into the house, the smell of blueberries drifting after her even though he hadn’t seen her drinking any of her iced tea all evening.

  He had to admit, the meal sounded incredible. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman feed him. For the first year after they’d divorced, April would bring him food. Some lamb stew here, a plate of cookies there—“just leftovers, and I happened to be passing by.”

  Will had known the truth. April felt guilty, and when April felt uncomfortable, she turned into a Stepford wife.

  She’d spent the last half of their marriage being relentlessly cheerful and efficient. Will had to admit, he’d enjoyed it sometimes. Now he just felt like hell for putting her in a position to feel compelled to fake anything at all.

  You should have known she was unhappy, he told himself. You should have seen the meatloaf and stiff smiles for the warning signs they were.

  Maybe so. But having Marley cook for him seemed different. More intimate somehow. His mouth watered as he thought about Marley hovering over a steamy pot of noodles, her nimble fingers dropping fat, tender shrimp into the butter. Will sighed and opened his toolbox.

  The heady smell of garlic was wafting through the garage door before Will had the last screw tightened. He knocked twice on the door leading from the garage to the condo, then wiped his feet on the doormat and walked inside.

  “Marley?” he called, stepping into the foyer where he noticed the giant pink rabbit still occupied copious floor space. “I’m all done out here. Where would you like me to wash up?”

  Marley popped her head around the corner of the kitchen, her cheeks flushed from cooking. At least Will assumed it was from cooking. She had that catalog, after all.

  “There’s a bathroom right around the corner there,” Marley said, nodding at the hallway. “First door on the left. Great timing, by the way. The scampi’s just about done. I hope you don’t mind garlic.”

  “I’m not a vampire, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That saves me the trouble of staking you at the dinner table then.”

  Will trudged through the foyer en route to the bathroom. As he passed the small end table by the door, something buzzed. He looked down at a small basket of keys and coins and saw Marley’s phone vibrating on top of the pile. He froze as an incoming text message flashed on the screen.

  Did more research. Rock cocks almost definitely worthless. Call me.

  The words flashed up so fast Will didn’t have time to register whether he should be reading them. And who the hell was Kayley?

  Will stepped away from the phone and moved toward the bathroom. Two waves hit him at once—a wave of guilt for snooping, and a wave of suspicion about the message. It had to be about Aunt Nancy’s figurines. But Marley had said she couldn’t get them appraised until next week. So what was going on?

  There has to be an explanation. Just ask her.

  He shook his head as he stepped into the bathroom to scrub his hands.

  Great idea. “So, Marley, I was reading your private text messages and couldn’t help noticing—”

  No. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open.

  Will twisted off the taps and ignored the twist of uneasiness in his gut. By the time he returned to the dining room, Marley had the table set and was ladling giant servings of buttery scampi onto plates. “Hang on a sec. Let me clip some parsley from my plant on the back deck.”

  “Wow,” Will said, sitting down to survey the spread. “Is this blueberry iced tea?”

  “It is. There’s white wine too, if you want it. It’s right inside the fridge. Take your pick between the Sauvignon Blanc and the Chardonnay.”

  Will pulled the wine from the refrigerator and located a corkscrew in the drawer beside the refrigerator. He returned to the table right as Marley dropped a handful of chopped parsley over a steaming plate of pasta and set it on a blue placemat.

  Will sat down and spread a green polka-dotted napkin across his lap before uncorking the wine.

  “This smells incredible. It looks incredible.”

  “Now we just hope it doesn’t taste like cardboard,” Marley said as she set down her own plate and took a seat beside Will. “I’m not a great cook, but this is the one thing I make pretty well. I have to go a little light on the butter si
nce I’m lactose intolerant, but parmesan is one of the few cheeses I can handle.” She placed a frosty glass of blueberry tea in front of him before picking up the dainty, stemmed wineglass Will had filled with Sauvignon Blanc.

  “Cheers,” Marley said, and took a sip.

  “Cheers.”

  They clinked glasses, and Will noticed the flush still hadn’t left Marley’s cheeks. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy knot on top of her head, and damp little curls framed her face. She looked ridiculously beautiful, which was crazy. She was wearing a dirt-smudged T-shirt, for crying out loud. She couldn’t be beautiful. She couldn’t be trusted, either.

  Give her the benefit of the doubt. Stop snooping, stop being suspicious, and eat your damn pasta.

  Magoo trotted into the dining room and looked from Marley to Will and back to Marley again. He licked Marley’s bare calf twice, then curled himself into a tight donut shape at the base of her chair.

  Will set his glass down and took a bite of the pasta. “This is delicious.”

  “Thank you. It’s my go-to easy meal when company drops by.”

  “I don’t cook much myself.”

  “No? What do you eat?”

  He shrugged and speared a fat, pink shrimp with his fork. “Rubber chicken.”

  “Rubber chicken?”

  “At charity functions, local fund-raiser galas, that sort of thing. I attend a lot of them, and no matter how swanky it is, they always seem to serve chicken that’s been cooked to the consistency of a superball.”

  “Rubber chicken. Got it.”

  “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. Sometimes it’s actually pretty tasty.”

  Marley laughed and forked up a mouthful of pasta. “I thought the food at Bed’s event was pretty good. I’ll have to get the name of that caterer.”

  “It was April.”

  He could tell from Marley’s expression he’d surprised her. “Your ex-wife is a caterer?”

  “Yep. She works out of 900 Wall downtown. Another chef runs the restaurant portion, and April handles the catering side of things.”

  “Wow. So will she be catering the event your sister hosts next month?”

  “Probably. It’s good promo for the business, plus April can’t ever resist the urge to feed people.”

  Marley was quiet a moment, and Will wondered what she was pondering. He didn’t have to wonder for long.

  “Is it weird having so much social interaction with your sister and ex-wife? I mean, given the circumstances—”

  “—of my wife leaving me to play snuggle-the-hamster with my sister?” Will took a sip of tea. “No.”

  Marley’s eyes were fixed on his face, waiting for more detail. But Will wasn’t interested in offering it. Instead, he picked up the basket of sliced baguette and offered it to her. “More bread?”

  Marley shook her head and speared another shrimp. “No thank you. Sorry to be nosy. It’s just odd to me. As soon as my ex-fiancé and I broke things off, that was pretty much it. Aside from a few awkward interactions where we sorted through belongings and decided who got what, we didn’t have a whole lot to say to one another.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “I think so. And since I moved three hours from Portland, we pretty much eliminated the chance of running into each other on a date or backsliding into post-breakup pity sex.” Marley laughed and speared another shrimp. “Of course, without the post-breakup pity sex, I probably should give some serious consideration to the merchandise in Bethany’s catalog.”

  Her eyes flitted to the china hutch behind them, and Will realized she’d set the Pure Romance catalog there. He stared at it a moment, feeling very warm under the collar of his T-shirt. He speared another mouthful of salad and chewed thoughtfully, his eyes still fixed on the glossy pages. He finished chewing and set down his fork, reaching over to snatch the pink and black cover page featuring a photo of a woman looking rosy-cheeked and joyful over the contents of a gift-wrapped box.

  Will flipped past the first few pages as Marley dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “I kinda want to see what all the fuss is about,” he said, flipping another page.

  “There’s something for everyone in there. Especially Aunt Nancy, given her apparent phallus fixation.”

  “There’s a visual I didn’t need.” Will flipped another page as Marley twirled the tines of her fork in her last puddle of noodles. He stopped flipping and stared at a photograph of a pink lotion tube.

  “Coochy?” Will squinted at the page. “They make a product called Coochy?”

  “I’m afraid to ask what it is.”

  “Apparently it’s a shaving lotion.”

  “Don’t feel you need to explain which body parts it’s intended to shave.”

  Will grinned and flipped another page, pausing to take a bite of garlic bread. He dropped the bread as his eyes landed on the next section of merchandise.

  “Wow,” he said, picking up the bread again. “I didn’t realize there’s so much variety.”

  “Variety in what?” Marley stretched toward him to get a look at the page, and Will resisted the urge to look down the front of her shirt. Instead, he turned back to the page, holding it up so she could see. “Vibrators,” he said, flipping to the next page to demonstrate the array of products. “They’ve got g-spot vibrators, vaginal vibrators, dual-action vibrators, and clitoral stimulators. Which are we shopping for?”

  “We are not shopping for anything,” Marley said, making a grab for the magazine. “Give me that.”

  Will pulled the catalog back, flipping to the next page. “I love the names for these. Platinum Pete, All-Night Bender, Tongue Tied, Big Bang—”

  Marley finally managed to snatch the catalog from his hand, and Will didn’t fight to hold on to it. Instead, he enjoyed the warm brush of her bare arm against his.

  He wouldn’t have blamed her one bit if she’d marched away to stuff the catalog in a drawer, but something must have caught her eye.

  “They make a vibrator called the Wild Hare?”

  “I saw that one,” Will said. “It’s the bunny ears.”

  “Now I know what to get Bed for Christmas.” Marley turned the page, seemingly fascinated by the selection. “There’s also a Major Hare. She could line them up and march them around her nightstand.”

  “There’s a pleasant thought.”

  Marley laughed and flipped another page. “You’re the one who started this. I don’t think I need to tell you this is a wildly inappropriate channel of discussion between two virtual strangers attempting to establish a professional business relationship.”

  “Who’s holding the magazine here?”

  “Me, thank you very much. How else would I know about the Diamond Collection?”

  “Diamond Collection?”

  Marley smacked the page with the back of her hand. “A girl’s best friend, apparently. A girl with money to burn, anyway. Look at this.”

  She held the page out to him, and Will’s eyes fixed on the shiny, phallic shape before shifting to the price. He whistled. “For $279, I hope it buys you dinner first.”

  Marley flipped another page. “We really should stop. This is highly unprofessional.”

  “Depends on your profession.” He peered at the page she’d turned to and raised an eyebrow. “Is the Double Trouble Dual-Bullet C-ring a sex toy or something you’d use to remove paint?”

  “Can I close this now?”

  “Wait, I’m trying to decide between the Jelly Tool Belt and the Jelly C-ring. Which would be better for bike repairs?”

  Marley shook her head and closed the catalog, setting it beside her wineglass. She folded her hands on her placemat and lifted her chin. “We really should stop. Don’t you think?”

  It was a real question, not a rhetorical one, and Will met her eyes. Her smile was fain
t, but still in place, and there was something else in her eyes. Curiosity? Intrigue? Desire? He didn’t know her well enough to tell, which also meant he didn’t know her well enough to do any of the dozens of things he urgently wanted to do with her right now. He held her eyes anyway, since it seemed wiser than holding her.

  His brain veered dangerously there, imagining Marley in his arms, her bare flesh warm against his fingertips, her hair skimming his naked chest. He imagined burying his face against her neck, smelling blueberries on her skin, tasting the salty sweetness of that soft spot behind her ear.

  Stop it! he ordered himself. You know you can’t trust her. She’s a neurotic people pleaser with a hidden agenda and a suspicious text message on her phone.

  Will blinked, and his eyes focused on her face again. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hazel eyes held his with an intensity that made all the air leave his lungs.

  Just a fling. As long as I don’t get attached…

  Marley’s lips parted, and he felt a surge of lust as her tongue flicked the corner of her mouth. “You’re trying to come up with a joke right now, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “To break the awkwardness.” Her voice was oddly husky. “Here we are, sitting at my dining room table with a sex toy catalog and a lot of sexual vibes between us, and you’re racking your brain to come up with a bad joke to diffuse the tension.”

  “A good joke would suffice.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  Will hesitated, not sure whether she waited for a joke or something else. Maybe she didn’t know either.

  “Knock knock,” he said.

  Marley grinned. “Who’s there?”

  “The guy who wants to strip your clothes off and have his way with you on the table.”

  Her lips quirked into a smile. “Is that your idea of a punch line or foreplay?”

  “Sometimes they’re the same thing.”

  Marley hesitated, then moved her hand a little closer to Will’s. “I know we agreed it would be a dumb idea for us to get involved…”

  “We did?”

  “I think so.”

  “Right. Remind me again why?”